


Growing Pains

by notavodkashot



Series: FFXV one shots [13]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Awkward!Gladio is Awkward, Cultural Differences, Custody Disputes Over A Cat, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Long-Term Relationship(s), Lucis Won The War Years Ago AU, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Well-Meaning Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 05:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16927422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notavodkashot/pseuds/notavodkashot
Summary: Eighteen-year-old Gladio just finished Crownsguard internship, moved out of his parents' house, and is trying to figure out what the hell he's going to do with his life.And then there's Nyx. And the cat. But mostly Nyx.





	Growing Pains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aliatori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliatori/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Трудности взросления](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17482937) by [utawara (tigriya)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriya/pseuds/utawara)



> Written for the lovely Ali, for her birthday! Terribly late because I suck like that, but! Happy birthday, love! I hope you enjoy it!

Gladio didn’t miss his cat. 

He didn’t even have one, to begin with. It was just a stray that sometimes camped out in his balcony and which maybe he fed once or twice a week. Just because he’d let it sleep in his bed last winter didn’t mean anything. 

Obviously. 

He didn’t miss it, of course. He was just… curious where it’d gone. It was a surprisingly playful cat, whenever it stopped being dead to the world and just lying around like a boneless sack of fur and purring. Gladio had read somewhere that cats didn’t actually sleep much, not the real, deep kind that left them fully vulnerable, unless they felt perfectly safe and content. But his cat – well, not his cat, he didn’t have a cat, the cat he certainly didn’t own and absolutely did not miss – slept all the time. One afternoon, shortly after the first time he’d allowed the critter inside the apartment, because it’d been raining heavily outside and he hadn’t been able to say no to the miserable meowing and the scratching of his glass doors, he’d spent about four hours posing the cat around and taking pictures of it. It only woke up because it was hungry and at that point Gladio had felt entirely too guilty for manhandling the little thing so much he couldn’t deny it a few rolls of ham for his trouble. 

He didn’t have a cat, no, but he’d bought a collar with a plaque and put it on the little menace, and taken pictures to share with his friends because he felt rather smug borrowing the Prince’s name for the lethargic, probably broken cat that liked to sleep in the balcony of his apartment and yowled any time he tried to make himself a sandwich. 

But none of that meant anything. 

Really. 

The point was, he was in the not-process of very much not missing the cat he didn’t own, when he got a knock on his door. 

“I am so sorry,” the man at his doorstep said, expression an even mix of apologetic and amused, and then chuckled wryly, as if that hadn’t really been what he’d meant to say from the get-go. 

Gladio mostly didn’t notice – he noticed, he noticed a whole lot of things, having been raised with a very specific job in mind, after all – partly because the man was a Glaive Gladio had seen around the neighborhood and the Citadel often enough and Gladio still refused to admit he had a massive crush on him the size of Ravatogh, but also because he happened to have Gladio’s not-cat cradled in his arms. 

“Oh, you found Noct,” Gladio said, and smiled and very much didn’t stutter. 

The man laughed. He had a nice laugh. Gladio knew this, of course, having heard it before, but never from up close. It was nice, his laugh. Yes. 

“Technically, _you_ found her,” he said, shrugging. “The little rascal is actually why I’m here… Name’s Nyx.” 

“Gladio,” Gladio replied, automatically, and then winced slightly. “…which you already knew. Because I put it in the tag along with my phone. Right.” Gladio frowned. “So how did you go from having my phone to my address, again?” 

Nyx grinned. He had the infectious kind of grin that made you grin back on reflex before you really thought about it. 

“Why don’t you invite me in and I’ll tell you all about it?” 

And because Gladio was an idiot of untold proportions, he actually stepped back and said: 

“Sure.” 

* * *

“I am an idiot of colossal magnitudes,” Gladio said, lying as long as he was on the floor of Ignis’ office, because the carpet was soft and comfier than the tiny, cramped armchairs Ignis kept purely for the aesthetics. 

“As your friend, you realize, I’m contractually obligated to deny this,” Ignis muttered, tapping lazily on the computer as his eyes flew over lines and lines of reports, he needed to decide if he wanted Noct to know about or not. “But also, as your friend, I have spent the last fifteen years inclined to agree.” 

“I asked him out,” Gladio blurted out, folding his arms over his face and resisting temptation to look over at Ignis’ reaction to the news. “I mean, it wasn’t… solicitous, so there’s plausible deniability if it goes to shit, but he did admit to cashing in favors around the Citadel to get my address. And then I asked him out, after he told me.” 

“It is the risk you take, choosing to live outside the Citadel,” Ignis pointed out, one eyebrow arched judging by his tone, though Gladio rolled onto his side and refused to see it. “If you’d at least moved into Noct’s building, a case could be made about offering proper privacy.” 

“Noct would murder me if I did,” Gladio reminded him, grumpily because Ignis needed no reminder at all and was just being a dick about things. “He needs his space and that’s fine. I just thought he had the right idea, moving out and living on his own. What’s the point of the King’s Peace if we can’t enjoy it, right?” 

“You can admit you’re avoiding your parents,” Ignis deadpanned, utterly unhelpful, “it’s okay, Gladio. I already knew. I’m fairly sure three quarters of the court already knew. It’s only living in fear of your mother’s smiles that keeps them all from saying anything, so I reckon you can be quite certain nothing will come out of it.” 

“I’m not avoiding my parents,” Gladio muttered rebelliously, “I’m avoiding my parents’ insistence in finding me a _partner_.” 

Ignis snorted. Gladio rolled right around to glare at him for it and found him leaning on the desk, arms folded along the edge, very clearly amused at his conundrum. 

“Oh no, your parents keep introducing you to well-bred, beautiful people so you can build up your own influence sphere, maybe make a few friends and fuck selectively pretty faces. _The horror_.” 

Gladio’s face flushed at the last bit, mortified. 

“Shut _up_ , Ignis,” he snarled, looking away. “That’s not-” 

“You told them you were gay and the only thing they did was introduce you to sons rather than daughters, most of whom even share your proclivities,” Ignis arched both eyebrows. “If you told them to stop, they _would_ stop, Gladio.” 

Gladio rolled back away, sighing. 

“I know,” he muttered, “it’s just. Y’know. Awkward and stupid. Plus, I like my flat and everything is fine. So, it’s basically a non-issue.” Gladio frowned. “We weren’t supposed to talk about that. Why do we always end up talking about that?” 

“Because, as mentioned before, you’re an idiot,” Ignis pointed out, relentless, “and between your ridiculous insistence to avoid your parents, and Nyx Ulric, I’m fairly certain which one is actually an issue.” 

“I’m not avoiding my parents!” Gladio insisted, sitting up to properly glare at Ignis like he deserved. 

Ignis smiled. 

Gladio knew better than most that terrible things followed when he did. 

“Then you must be pleased to know your father is due to be here in five minutes,” he said, green eyes glinting treacherously in rather treasonous ways. 

“I hate you,” Gladio hissed at him, and did his best to pretend he wasn’t running away. 

* * *

Nyx lived seven blocks away from Gladio’s place, on a fairly cozy apartment perched right atop a bar, just outside the residential zone where Gladio’s building was located. The entire place would fit quite easily inside Gladio’s living room, but it did not feel cramped at all. It was probably the lack of furniture, what with the fact Nyx did not have a single chair or sofa in the entire place. He did have a couple of nice, thick rugs, and an over abundance of pillows and cushions scattered about. It was actually really nice, to lie down and drink tea, and chat about nothing in particular as they watched Noct – the cat, real name Morrigan, apparently – chew lazily on a toy mouse stuffed with catnip. 

“What are your parents like?” Gladio asked, lips twitching as he watched the cat fall asleep and roll onto its back in the least cat-like way possible, because it was very clearly a broken cat. 

“You’re pretty serious about that cat, huh?” Nyx replied instead, eyebrows arched and playful leer on his face. “Here I thought you were just trying to seduce me into letting you keep her, but you’re actually going for the full marriage-and-shared-custody deal, aren’t you?” 

Gladio spluttered gloriously. 

“What does that- “ 

Nyx shrugged. 

“I mean, I don’t blame you?” He tilted his head to the side, looking insufferably smug in that weird way that Gladio found he didn’t terribly mind all together. “I’d marry me too if I could.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Gladio laughed, rubbing a hand over his face. 

Nyx was fun and witty and all around great to hang around with, but he still caught him off guard, sometimes. After three years of drills and schedules and Cor’s million-mile stares, Gladio was still getting the hang of… well, not that. 

And Nyx was _everything_ not that. 

“See,” Nyx said, inching his way closer, prowling almost, and Gladio supposed he probably shouldn’t be that into it, but Nyx sometimes managed to make him feel small, and that didn’t happen very often. “I have a theory, that you might not be here for the cat after all.” 

People didn’t like being made feel small. Men, that was. Gladio knew it from the las three not-boyfriends he didn’t have, precisely because he made them feel that way, and they cited that feeling as their reason why they weren’t really interested in anything more solid than desperate handjobs in the showers of the barracks. 

“Maybe,” Gladio replied, voice slightly hoarse as he contemplated the fact he really, really liked that feeling. 

“I’m Galahdian, Lord Amicitia,” Nyx said, eyebrows arched playfully as he leaned in, “do you know what that means?” Nyx smiled when Gladio could only muster a slight shake of his head. “It means you’re cute and I like you, you don’t really need to court me to get me to fuck you. Just have to ask.” 

“Please,” Gladio blurted out, before he could think better of it, and when Nyx laughed, it somehow managed not to sound mocking. 

“So, here’s what I think should happen now, tell me if you’re into it,” Nyx said, sliding in until he was straddling Gladio’s hips with his knees, and his face was just inches away. “I’m going to fuck you exactly as much as I’ve been meaning to, since the first time I laid eyes on you, and then we’re gonna order take out and probably fuck again after we’re done eating.” 

“I’m into it,” Gladio promised, lips just barely not brushing against Nyx’s. “A lot.” 

“Good boy,” Nyx said, and the sound Gladio made in reply was barely human. 

* * *

Nyx did have a mattress, in the sea of cushions he called home. It was solid under Gladio’s weight and held up under his hands and knees while he got fucked into next week. It was nice. Nyx kissed as languidly as he fucked, taking his time and going slow enough for Gladio to get wrapped up in every little thing. It was nice, all of it, and the salient point for him was how… thorough and not rushed Nyx was about it. It occurred to Gladio, as he panted his breath against Nyx’s collarbone and tried to get his bearings back, that there was no real reason for them to hurry. Nyx had the day off – which was why Gladio had been invited to hang out and watch the cat, in the first place – and Gladio had arranged his schedule so his day was free as well. It made something trip inside his head, as he settled up against Nyx’s chest – they were absolutely cuddling, yes, but Gladio thought it would be best if he didn’t point it out, for reasons too shapeless and complicated to point out – that he didn’t have to move. He could stay there and bask on the feeling of Nyx’s calloused hands running back and forth along his spine. 

Then Nyx’s fingers slid lower still, and Gladio made a surprised noise as he felt that same soothing touch take on a different note when applied to the still sensitive rim of his entrance. Nyx wasn’t even looking at him, though, fiddling with his phone for the promised food. 

“In my defense,” Nyx said, catching sight of Gladio’s uncertain stare and grinning the infectious grin again, “I don’t usually deflower virgins, you understand.” 

“I’m not-” Gladio began, and then found air stuttering its way through his lungs, when one of Nyx’s fingers slid _inside_ him. 

“I figure if I make it good enough for you, you’ll be up for seconds as much as I am,” Nyx told him, and then, before Gladio could muster up a reply, asked: “I know how you feel about Galahdian sex, but how do you feel about Galahdian food?” 

Gladio realized he might, maybe have a problem, when he agreed before thinking about it. But then Nyx distracted him by making out until the food got there, and then Nyx was teaching him the right way to eat skewers, and by the time he was on his back, legs spread and enjoying _seconds_ , it was far too late to freak out about it. 

* * *

Gladio had a problem, and his name was Nyx Ulric. 

He didn’t have a problem with Nyx – quite the opposite, in fact – but he had a problem in that he was fairly sure he was past the crushing state, and he had no real good idea what to do about it. Ordinarily, he’d consider talking about it with Iggy, if nothing else because Ignis was smart and good at surgically unfolding problems into things Gladio could understand and often act on. 

But Ignis was still being a wet blanket about Gladio moving out of his parents’ house and insisting it was the most important thing Gladio should focus on – which, honestly, he was probably right, but it wasn’t what Gladio wanted to hear at the moment, and most importantly, it wasn’t what he wanted to do – so Gladio was doing the sane, sensible thing to do, and avoiding Ignis’ office and its comfy rug with the same tenacity he’d been avoiding his parents around the Citadel. 

So Gladio did the sensible thing and went on as if there was no problem at all. He spent his days building that sphere of influence Ignis kept talking about like it mattered – Gladio knew it mattered, he just didn’t like admitting it because he didn’t like admitting he wasn’t exactly stellar at it yet – and practicing the delicate art of learning how to do his father’s job without actually directly interacting with his father. The highlight of his work days was spending two hours in the training room, teaching the Prince everything he knew about fighting – and that was a lot, actually – and helping him make the shift into public life – of which he knew very little, but at least he reckoned he could be supportive. 

Noct was a good friend, anyway. Before being Gladio’s liege, before being Prince or anything else. He was a good friend. 

Well, sometimes. 

“Oh, by the way, Mum’s been looking for you,” Noctis said, as they took a break from their spar, like it wasn’t making every hair on Gladio’s body standing at attention. “Said she wanted you in her office at some point today.” 

Gladio did not freak out. Not outwardly, anyway. He’d been trained too well for that. But as he made his way up to the Queen’s office – and it was an office, not a studio, and woe upon the idiot who made that mistake anywhere near Aulea Lucis Caelum might hear – he wondered what he’d done to earn her attention. 

The Queen was nothing like his mother, who solved her problems with a smile and a glass of wine, and more often than not went uncredited for her troubles. Gladio knew his mother to be sly and cunning and well-versed in handling people as people, where his father’s greatest strength was handling people as tools. They were not easy benchmarks to reach, either of them, but even if he had none of their talents when it came to politics – yet, he was working on it, in his own way, he was trying – he knew enough to respect and admire them for it. 

The Queen, though. 

The Queen was Cor’s sister, and it showed, always. 

Noctis insisted his mother was sweet and kind and generous, playful in silly ways and always willing to listen and offer him comfort. Gladio knew for a fact she reserved all the soft bits of herself for her son, and maybe her husband, but everyone else had to deal with the rest of her, which was stubborn, impatient and unrestrained. The Queen did with words and judicious use of magic, what her brother usually accomplished with a sword. After all, the Kingsglaive might have been named to honor her husband, but everyone knew whose hand really held their leash. 

Lucis had a King that hoped for brokered peace, and a Queen who would fight for it, if necessary. 

Gladio knew the King better than the Queen. The Queen always kept her distance, away from politics that bored her, and only ever summoned Gladio to her presence when she wanted to make sure her son was properly looked after. Gladio was okay with that, honestly, given the fact the Queen was fucking terrifying and he didn’t want to know what happened if she found his efforts subpar, when it came to protecting her son. 

“Sit,” the Queen said, as soon as he opened the door to her office. 

“Your Majesty,” Gladio began, as soon as he’d obeyed, and felt weird for not being able to stand to attention as he’d like, which, in retrospect, was probably on purpose. “Noctis said-” 

“You’re not in trouble,” she said, upfront, sitting on the edge of her desk and folding her arms over her chest. “I mean, you are, but not in ways that actually concern me.” She paused, frowning. “Except it technically does, but that’s the whole point of this meeting. Then you can be in trouble in ways that don’t actually really matter.” 

Gladio took in all that for a moment and then nodded slowly. 

“Okay.” 

In his heart of hearts, Gladio always thought the Queen had something serpentine in her, given the way she looked down at people sometimes, like she was taking stock of what made them themselves. It was not fun to be on the receiving end of that stare. It felt like a rake was being run all over his brain, and she was still deciding whether she approved of what got caught in the web, or not. 

“You’re fucking Nyx Ulric,” the Queen said, after a moment, utterly unceremonious and upfront. 

Gladio sort of wished, sort of didn’t, that he’d been drinking something, if only for the satisfaction of choking on something other than air and spit. 

“I-” 

“Now, it’s none of my damn business if you’re fucking Nyx Ulric or the entirety of Caem, for that matter,” she said, shrugging. “Except it kinda is because he’s the best I have, and he likes you, and if you’re not really into him long term, I need you to tell him that, or I’m going to end up having to deal with _feelings_.” She paused significantly. “Please don’t make me deal with feelings, Gladio. I had an emotion fifteen years ago and you’re gonna have to deal with him for the rest of your life.” 

Gladio barked a laugh at that. He probably shouldn’t have, but it made the Queen smile at him, so maybe it wasn’t so bad. 

“Shoo,” she said, waving a hand towards the door. 

Wordlessly, he went. 

* * *

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” 

Gladio sat by the window in Nyx’s flat, face buried into the cat he was cuddling, and purposely didn’t look at Nyx’s expression even as he laughed. He had a problem, yes, and the biggest part of it was the sheer amount of time he spent in Nyx’s sea of cushions, when he wasn’t working. Most of it was just time he spent hanging out with their broken cat, who liked to sleep until it snored and be handfed bits of ham. But also talking about nothing in particular and watching movies, and yes, also having sex. 

The problem, as far as Gladio was concerned, was how casual and… no-big-deal the whole thing was. 

It was comfortable and uncomplicated and Gladio knew he should probably question letting it become part of his routine, but he didn’t want to. It was the one thing in his life that was currently not a confusing mess, after all. 

“So, I was going to ask if you wanted to make this into a more… officially dating kind of thing,” Nyx said, rubbing a hand over his face, “but I was hoping maybe it wouldn’t have to be… a production kind of thing? I’m sorry, I just didn’t think she’d tell you about it when I asked her.” 

“Why ask her at all?” Gladio asked, rather than try to decipher the deliriously happy feeling bubbling somewhere in his gut. 

“Well, she owns me,” Nyx replied, matter-of-fact, “…technically, the King owns me, but he gave me to her and… that sounds wrong.” 

“Little bit,” Gladio admitted, squinting somewhat. 

“Okay, so, twenty years ago, after the King liberated Accordo, the Nifs invaded Galahd,” Nyx explained, sighing. “It did not end well for the Nifs, obviously, but battles were fought. The King saved my life pretty spectacularly during one of those battles. So, to pay that debt, I swore my life to serve him. Which I’ve basically been doing, since then. And then after he got crowned and married, he told me the best way I could work to repay my debt was to guard his wife. Which. Yeah. She doesn’t need much guarding. It’s more like guarding people _from_ her, really. Anyway! Because I owe a life debt, I’m not at liberty to start a formal relationship without at least letting my debtors know, but I was sort of hoping to figure out if you even wanted a relationship first, before… getting into the whole life debt thing. So, I’m sorry you got ambushed by my boss and her absolute inability to People properly.” 

“It’s alright,” Gladio said, even though it stuck to him, the fact Nyx had been serving the King, longer than he’d been alive. 

The fact Nyx had a decade on him, that was one of those things that were a problem, but he’d been doing his best to ignore entirely. 

“So… are you interested in a relationship?” Nyx asked, head tilted slightly to the side. 

“My parents are an arranged marriage,” Gladio said instead, very purposefully not looking at Nyx in the face. “They’ve been trying to arrange mine for the past… five years or so. Though funny story, I only figured it out a short while ago, after I came home from the barracks and started actually training for my actual job. I told my parents I was gay, which I am, and the only thing that changed was the gender of their proposals. And I’m supposed to be happy about the whole thing, except I’m really not, and I don’t know how to explain that I’m sick and tired of everything being what it’s supposed to be, without hurting someone’s feelings or acting like an entitled brat. So!” Gladio shrugged. “Do I want a relationship? I don’t know. I’m not supposed to, what with the impending marriage thing looming over my head, but I sort of do, and I can’t tell if I want one just because I’m not supposed to.” 

Nyx took a moment to soak in the words, which was about the same time Gladio took to regret letting them out in the first place, even if he could sort of breathe easier now that he had. And then Nyx nodded. 

“Alright, let’s take it a step back,” Nyx said, and shuffled in to sit right next to Gladio, which was unfair, because Gladio enjoyed lying against Nyx’s side entirely too much to try and resist it. “Do you want to figure out if you want a relationship with me… with me?” Gladio snorted when Nyx rested his chin atop his head. “I mean, let’s be real, now. You could do objectively so much worse than me, for your rebellion phase, if it turns out you don’t really want to do the long-term commitment thing after all. But!” 

“But?” Gladio asked, and he didn’t mean to laugh, even though he couldn’t not to, not when Nyx was pulling off his mock-arrogance and dialing it up to the nth degree. 

“And this is an important but, if you are into the long-term commitment thing, you do have to understand I’m not going to marry you until you’re sixty,” Nyx said, and then tilted his face until his mouth was pressed against the side of Gladio’s face. “Because if I marry you, you’re stuck with me, forever. So, I reckon it’s only fair to give you forty years and change to make up your mind about it.” He paused. “You’re still not getting custody of the cat unless you marry me, though.” 

Gladio laughed, despite it all. 

“Well, at least one of us has his priorities in order.” 

* * *

By the time Gladio gave in and agreed to move into Nyx’s place, all he really had left to move were the last few books that he still kept around in bookshelves in his place. The furniture, of course, wasn’t welcome to join them, and at that point, Gladio was okay with it. He was soaking in Galahdian culture at about the same rate he was soaking in politics from his father. He was even letting his hair grow out in that fashion, and not only because the upkeep of such a hairstyle involved sitting on a stool in the bathroom and letting Nyx run a razor across his scalp to keep his sides trimmed and neat. Or the fact he almost always ended up on all fours afterwards. 

It was fine. 

His mother and Nyx got along like a house on fire, which was horrifying to contemplate, but the overt introductions had stopped – just like Ignis had said they would, yes, and Gladio had already apologized and made amends the only way he knew how: bantering around until he got Ignis a bag of Tenebrae-bred coffee that was still technically illegal to import into Lucis. And it was infinitely easier to learn how to do his father’s work, when he could actually talk to him about it. 

It was _fine_. 

“How do you feel about fleeing the country?” Nyx asked him one morning, even as he worked his way kissing down the line of the eagle’s feathers down Gladio’s back. 

“What?” 

“Well, my sister is coming to visit, Altissia is lovely any time of the year, and we have like two months of paid leave to cash in…” 

Gladio laughed. 

“I let you meet my sister,” he pointed out, clearly amused by the sheepish look on Nyx’s face. 

“Your sister is wonderful,” Nyx replied dryly, wrinkling his nose, “mine is… not.” 

“I find that hard to believe,” Gladio laughed, turning around to face him. “I mean, if she’s anything like you…” 

Nyx stared down at him for a moment and then laughed. 

“Fine, far be from me to save you from disaster, Lord Amicitia,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically. 

Gladio tugged him down for a kiss. 

“You enjoy my disasters.” 

Absolutely, unquestionably fine. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out on [DW](https://notavodkashot.dreamwidth.org/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/notavodkashot), if you'd like.


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